


Sharing the Forbidden Fruit

by lipsomniac



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Dystopian World, F/F, Forbidden Fruit, Pining, i like symbolism ; please don't mind me, mention of food, they're soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsomniac/pseuds/lipsomniac
Summary: The desks, the chairs, the board, the bedrooms, the yard, the walls, and the fence. That’s all Jinsol and Haseul know. That, and the apple everyone gets as a snack. Everyone gets one. Except Jinsol. She gets two.or Haseul doesn’t like hearing Jinsol’s stomach growl after the afternoon break and she's not afraid to break the rules to give her an apple.
Relationships: Jo Haseul/Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	Sharing the Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gundams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundams/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: i started writing that on an impulse last night at like 10pm after i'd done a twitter poll to know what ship i'd write for. you guys voted for jinseul, you're getting jinseul. all of it happened in less than 24 hours and at least half of the fic is the product of my insomnia.  
> it hasn't been betaread but i've edited and proofread it with a clear mind today. please keep in mind that i've slept only 1 hour in the past 24 hours, though, so maybe my mind isn't as clear as i think it is.

The chalk stick screeches on the blackboard, and Haseul thinks her ears are about to bleed. She never liked chalk. In fact, the main reason why she doesn’t like going to class is chalk. Whether it’s in the instructor’s hand or in hers, chalk is painful. The feeling on her skin is indescribably disturbing, unpleasant. You can never get completely rid of the fine powder. And the noise it makes when it touches the board… it makes her regret her mother’s womb.

Did her mother go to class? Did she have to use chalk? Haseul doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember her at all.

She’s read in history books that before the Great Lockdown, they had different kinds of boards, even interactive ones that worked with a computer. Not that she would know what a computer is if she hadn’t read about them.

Training Centers don’t have electricity anymore. The Empresident said that it distracts students. Again, Haseul would not know.

She has been in the Center since she was two years old, and she will be there until she is twenty. That’s four more years to go. She often wonders what life is like outside of there, what is waiting for her beyond the fence. But questions about the Elsewhere, the past, or the future cannot be asked. They always get shut down. Everything Haseul knows, she’s read it in the books Vivi stole in the archives for her. They’re the only trace of anything that happened before the Great Lockdown.

But no one has access to the library or to the archives. The only thing that matters is the teachings they get in class. They have to listen and remember, but only what the instructors say. They can’t ask for more, they’re not supposed to find out more. Haseul still doesn’t know how Vivi manages to get in the library. Surely, she must break in. Vivi never accepts to talk about it. She says it’s dangerous. And Haseul doesn’t insist, because she knows the older girl is right.

Yet, she doesn’t know what kind of danger she would be in. She’s never seen anything violent or distressing happen between the walls of the Training Center. Every day is the same. The students go to class, sit in silence, take notes, eat lunch, go back to class, sit in silence, take notes, have a snack, study, eat dinner, go to sleep, and repeat. Every day is filled with the same quietness, and no one ever complains. It’s just a routine they have known since they were toddlers. They got so used to it that it’s started bringing them peace.

Haseul is used to the routine. She’s used to how dulls her days are, so dull that she doesn’t even realize it because everything is the same without nuance.

But she’ll never get used to the chalk.

She sets the chalk stick in its box below the board, and shakes her shoulders, attempting to get rid of the dryness that goes from her fingers to the rest of her body. She goes back to sit, and Jinsol gives her a discrete smile as she passes by her desk.

Suddenly, the invading discomfort caused by the chalk is forgotten, replaced by a warmth that is as soothing as the chimney fire that burns every night in their dormitory.

The main reason Haseuls likes going to class is Jinsol.

Every time she exchanges a glance with the other girl, she _feels_. And even if their eyes cross only occasionally, it’s enough to make Haseul think that her whole life is vivid and colorful.

When Haseul sits at her desk, right behind the other girl, it gets hard to focus. How can she listen to the instructor when all she wants to do is run her hand in the silky blonde hair that flows against her own deck? That blonde hair that is the proof of Jinsol’s good behavior.

They say that blonde hair is angel’s hair. Only the best students are allowed to bleach their hair. Those who studied the best, the fastest, and who had time to volunteer in the charity room.

Haseul is not one of them. She doesn’t even know what the charity room looks like, because she’s never studied fast enough to get to see it. She has a hard time focusing. Anything distracts her.

But it could be worse. She could be like Sooyoung. The poor girl studies in a room alone because she tried to ask for help once.

In the Training Center, you’re supposed to grow a spirit of unity, that is why everything is done together and there is no alone time. Yet, you are not allowed to ask for help for anything that is study related. They say it’s cheating.

And when she’s studying, Haseul can’t help but think of these weird rules, and how Sooyoung broke them. Very often, she goes through the same dilemma: is Sooyoung a bad student? or are the rules questionable? And she never reaches a conclusion, but the thinking takes up all her study time. She rarely gets to finish all her homework, and never gets to volunteer.

It’s a shame. Jinsol says volunteering is the best part of her day. And Haseul wants to know what it likes. She wants to know _what_ makes Jinsol happy.

More than that, she wants to _make_ Jinsol happy. Not that Jinsol looks sad. Jinsol looks just like everyone in the Training Center: neutral.

Haseul simply loves to see Jinsol’s smile. She doesn’t know why, it’s just… like that. And she’ll do anything to see the blonde’s lip stretch, her eyes sparkle, her dimples appear.

Can you blame Haseul? Wouldn’t you want an angel to smile at you too?

Just like every day, when Haseul gets back to her desk, it’s Jinsol’s turn to write on the board. It’s always the same order.

And just like every day, Haseul is ready. Her backpack is open. She only has to lean a bit to the side, reach for the apple, and put it in Jinsol’s open backpack before she comes back.

She started doing it months ago, when she heard Jinsol’s stomach growl harder than usual during study session. The blonde didn’t even flinch. And Haseul understood that the girl was used to afternoon hunger, but she still felt her chest become heavier.

They don’t eat much for lunch. Usually a single dish, and their plates aren’t full. Lately, they’ve been eating sweet potatoes for both lunch and dinner. Vivi says she likes it that way. Haseul is growing bored of the taste. She knows the vegetables cultivated in the gardens and that the younger children pour their heart into growing them. She’s done it too when she was younger. But still, she’s had enough for the next four years.

Anyway, it’s not like she has a choice. She eats what she can, when she can. She’s lucky enough to have a small stomach, and to not get hungry easily. Everyone isn’t that lucky. Jinsol isn’t.

So naturally, when Haseul heard Jinsol’s stomach get loud several days in a row during the study session, she understood that Jinsol needed her apple more than she did. She’s been giving it to the blonde since then.

After morning classes, students have to hand in their backpacks so the bursars can put the right manuals and notebooks inside for afternoon classes, as well as _one_ apple to eat between the last afternoon class and the study session.

So, after the last class, when they go to the yard to get a breath of fresh air and eat their apple, Haseul watches Jinsol from the corner of her eyes. The blonde was surprised the first time she got a second fruit, but now she doesn’t even blink. And her stomach doesn’t growl during the study session anymore. Haseul doesn’t need more than that to be satisfied.

It’s forbidden. She knows that she’s risking a lot by sharing her fruit. But she does it anyway.

Jinsol comes back to her desk, giving Haseul a huge smile before sitting down. She gives bigger smiles when the instructor can’t see. Haseul knows that showing too much happiness would look suspicious. Vivi told her. Therefore, students mostly smile when instructors or supervisors aren’t around. And they’ve all learnt to laugh so quietly you’d thought they never do it.

Haseul doesn’t understand why Jinsol always beams at her, even when everyone is watching. She tries her best not to smile back, but she’s bitten her lip many times, and she still can’t keep herself from grinning whenever the blonde lays eyes on her. She doesn’t really want to, anyway. She might not want the supervisors to know that she’s happy, but she wants Jinsol to know that _she_ makes her as happy as Haseul is trying to make _her_ happy.

* * *

The fire is warm, and the cracking of the wood is soothing after a long day of learning. Haseul wants to stay next to the chimney for a while and watch the flames before going to bed.

She likes watching the flames dance. They’re behind a grid, but they go through it easily. If Haseul gets too close, she’ll get burnt. But the flames, no matter how hard you try to tame them, are free. They would have the strength to destroy everything if they had more wood to burn from. The grid isn’t what’s keeping them from burning everything. It’s the lack of wood.

Haseul likes to think that the grid is the fence, that the flames are the students, and the wood logs what they learn. They learn just enough to think the inside of the fence is comfortable. Most of them don’t even think about reaching out, because they think all they need is here. Haseul knows better. Vivi has given her enough books to know there _is_ more. She doesn’t know what kind of “more”, because the only books that have been allowed for printing by the Empresident are the school manuals. They do not talk about the current Elsewhere.

All the books talk about the past, until the Great Lockdown. Haseul has no idea what’s out there. It is probably safer in the Training Center, anyway. So, maybe, just maybe, it’s a good thing that they’re not taught about the Elsewhere. Just so they don’t endanger themselves out of curiosity.

Although she’s pretty sure that if the students get curious, it won’t be them who are in danger. It’s the people trying to control them. Wild flames aren’t a danger for themselves, they’re a danger for their surroundings.

A hand pats the top of her skull, and she’s pulled out of her thoughts.

“Hey.”

Haseul looks up and sees a familiar face, the blonde hair framing it turned a light orange by the reflection of the flames. Instinctively, she smiles.

“Hi.”

Jinsol sits down next to her and brushes her cheek with the back of her hand. Haseul feels the fire get warmer. She gets scared it’s going to burn them both.

“You okay?”

The brunette looks the blonde in the eyes. She still wonders sometimes why Jinsol cares about any of that. Why she keeps randomly walking up to her at night, asking her if she’s okay. Or how she gets so easily affectionate while Haseul can’t.

Sure, they’ve known each other for fourteen years, and that must come into play. But Haseul cannot do the same, she feels like she’s not allowed to. Something about it feels so right that it feels wrong. But Jinsol allows herself without a second thought, and Haseul often thinks that something must be wrong with her own brain. So she tries to act natural around the blonde, to not repress her gestures of affection, just so she can be on the same level of giving. It does get a lot more natural with time. But something still feels off. Dangerous, even.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why?”

Haseul smiles softly. She’s not lying. She _is_ okay every time Jinsol is next to her. There is no denying that. Jinsol looks serious, her big brown eyes are fixated on Haseul’s, unwavering.

“You looked a bit sad.”

Haseul shakes her head, her bobbed hair moving along her jawline.

“I’m not.”

Jinsol frowns, visibly unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You know you can always talk to me if you need to, right?”

Haseul pouts. She doesn’t know how to convince Jinsol that she’s happy – that she couldn’t be happier, if she was being honest – without being overly affectionate. Don’t get me wrong, Haseul is not scared of being affectionate. At all. She wishes she could be a lot louder than she is, at least as loud as her heart is currently beating in her chest. She’s just scared of the consequences.

She looks around to make sure no one’s looking. Everyone is sound asleep. She lets her head rest on Jinsol’s shoulder, taking in the warmth of the other girl’s body.

Haseul still hasn’t figured out what feeling gets the most triggered by Jinsol’s touch.

Is it a fulfilling comfort that fills every single cell of her body? Or is it an electric wave that runs through her veins from head to toe? Sometimes the blonde’s hand makes her relax, sometimes it makes her shiver. That day, it’s the former.

“I know, thank you.”

There’s not much more to be said. Not much more than she _can_ say.

Does she really need to say anything when Jinsol’s hand intertwine with hers and her thumb runs over the back of her hand? Is there anything to say when Jinsol kisses the top of her head from the tip of her lips, light as a feather? And is there anything to say when Haseul rests her head even deeper in Jinsol’s neck, smelling soap on her skin?

It seems like there isn’t anything to say, but Haseul’s stomach would like to argue. It makes its voice loud and clear.

Jinsoul raises her head and pouts.

“You’re hungry… You should-“ she interrupts herself, realizing what she was about to say makes no sense in this context. “I’ll give you one of my apples.”

Haseul raises her head too, looking the blonde in the eyes, trying her best to remain expressionless. She’s not even sure she heard Jinsol right.

“One of your apples?”

Jinsol nods vigorously.

“Yes! I get two. I think it’s because I got good results. So, I can give you one of them. Or even the two of them if you want!”

The blonde is looking at her expectantly and Haseul doesn’t know what to say.

First of all, Jinsol doesn’t know where the apples actually come from. Second, Haseul doesn’t want her to know. Third, if she’s giving her fruit to her friend, there is a reason, for it and she doesn’t want it back.

“No, I’m good, I promise. I think I ate too fast and my stomach doesn’t feel full, that’s all.”

Jinsol pouts and squeezes Haseul’s hand. The blonde is so cute, how is she supposed to resist? All she wants in this moment is to pinch her pretty nose gently, and k-. No. She can’t think about that. Ever.

“But I want to give you one of my apples.”

Jinsol looks like a sad puppy. Haseul can’t stand the sight. It’s too cute. She sighs and chuckles, giving in.

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

The satisfied look on Jinsol’s face is enough for Haseul to understand that she’s made the right choice. Would she rather be faced with a replete Jinsol, or with a happy Jinsol? Ideally both, but if she has to pick, she will pick the happy Jinsol.

The blonde engulfs her into a hug, but footsteps interrupt it before Haseul has time to fully enjoy the oxytocin boost. The girls pull apart swiftly, before the supervisor has time to see them so close. They both stare at the fire, their bodies apart but their souls still connected, feeling the same thrill.

* * *

The chalk still screeches the next day when Haseul slides her apple into Jinsol’s backpack.

She’s thought about simply keeping it, but how else would Jinsol be able to give it to her if she didn’t get it in the first place?

And at the end of class, instead of going their separate ways for the short break, Jinsol waits for her outside class. Her smile is so bright the brunette can tell she’s delighted to be sharing her fruits. The blonde is just that generous, and Haseul can’t not admire her for that.

The two girls head to the yard. The weather is morose that day, but the younger girl is sure Jinsol’s happy face alone is lighting it up. The grey sky, grey gravel, grey wall, grey fence, grey day, all seem a lot shinier with the perspective of sharing a moment with the blonde. Still, the clouds are heavy, and the rain threatens to fall. They opt to go in the corner of the covered part of the playground. Almost all of the students are there or will come there.

No one likes to be soaked when there’s no hot shower and no heating system. Haseul has read about those in books too, but they’re foreign to her.

Both girls let their backpacks fall from their shoulders onto the ground, and Jinsol crouches to open hers. She pulls two apples out of it, while Haseul just stands there and watches. Jinsol looks up.

“Why aren’t you getting your apple?”

Jinsoul’s eyebrow is raised. Haseul shrugs.

“I don’t have one.”

“How come? You should get one. Is that why you were so hungry yesterday? Do you want to go to the bursar? I can come with you.”

Jinsol’s words flow, uninterrupted, but still keeping the slow pace that she always uses. She is already grabbing her backpack and lifting it from the ground. Haseul grabs her arm to stop her, making the blonde freeze.

“Hmm… How do I put this?” Haseul sighs, and Jinsol frowns. “Remember how you thought you were getting two apples because of your tests results? Well, it wasn’t the Center giving another apple to you, it was me. I heard your stomach several times during study session. I knew how hungry you were, so… I gave you mine.”

The blonde gasps, and reads Haseul’s face, probably trying to spot a lie. Haseul’s story doesn’t seem believable.

“Every single day? How did you do that?”

Haseul nods. She feels weirdly intimidated by Jinsol’s questions, by the fact that she has to admit to something most students there would call a misfit. But she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t regret. She would do it all over again if it meant not having to hear Jinsol’s empty stomach ever again.

“I slid them in your backpack when you wrote on the board in the last afternoon class.”

Jinsol remains silent, but she stares. Her expression is undecipherable and Haseul feels like she is gauging her, like a prey, like she’s about to devour her. Her eyes are dark, and Haseul wonders if Jinsol is mad at her. She takes her hand off Jinsol’s arm, not taking her eyes off, preventing a possible attack. She notices the blonde looking at her lips for a brief second. And then Jinsol closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly, biting her lip, as if refraining to say something.

When she opens her eyes again, any trace of anger is gone.

“Please stop doing that, Haseul. You need to eat.”

Haseul realizes it’s one of the first times Jinsol calls her by her name. There’s usually no need for it in their conversations. But every single time, Haseul’s name sounds like a poem in Jinsol’s mouth. She would want to hear it over and over again. It’s like Jinsol saying her name is giving birth to her, making her exist as something more than a mere random student in the Training Center. For once, she’s not just H970718, she’s Haseul, and she feels like she is.

It’s different from when other people call her by her first name. Jinsol’s voice inflection makes it seem like it matters. Like her identity matters. Like who she is matters. Like she matters.

* * *

Spring has come, and it’s Memorial Arts Day.

Every year, each student is provided with an easel or drawing paper, and they have to paint or draw outside, in the yard. The date changes every year, because it has to be on a sunny day. The Empresident says that the sun brings light on the event and enlightens the students’ hearts to the wonders that have happened since the Great Lockdown. They have to let the light in, to get inspiration from it, and to make art from it.

Haseul has been participating since she can hold a pencil, and she still doesn’t understand what is expected of her. She finds the whole thing hypocritical. But that’s because she knows better. Most students actually enjoy that day when they don’t have to go to class. She just finds it hard to see how the sun lights her life up. It doesn’t, it’s just a natural element amongst others. Jinsol does.

But she can’t exactly draw Jinsol for Memorial Arts Day. She would, if she could. The blonde is a work of art in itself. Her sweet brown eyes, perfect nose, sharp jawline, angelic expression. Haseul wishes she could be more like Jinsol. But enjoying the simple fact that she exists and admiring her already feels like a gift.

The Earth has existed for a million years, and somehow, Haseul was lucky enough to live at the exact same time as Jinsol.

The brunette looks at her blank sheet. What could she possibly be grateful for, if not Jinsol?

Then she looks at the other girl, who’s sitting cross-legged next to her. An idea flashes through her mind. She grins and starts drawing.

The lines are simple, and she’s soon done with the outlining. Her apple looks good, but it’s not shiny enough. She needs to give it a lot more colors. She raises her head to check on Jinsol’s progress and notices that the girl is paler than her sheet.

Haseul doesn’t have time to say anything. Jinsol gets up and walks away. Haseul follows her, a frown growing on her face. It’s really unlike the blonde to leave in the middle of a mandatory activity. She usually nerds out about Memorial Arts Day.

The blonde walks around the corner of the yard and follows the wall of the building. Haseul could think she’s going to the restroom and leave her alone, but this can’t be it. Her friend doesn’t seem to be in her normal state.

They reach the composting toilet box, and Jinsol turns around, finally taking notice of Haseul’s footstep on the gravel behind hers.

She looks completely out of it. There’s wildness in her gaze. She’s terrified.

“Jinsol, are you okay?”

Jinsol locks eyes with Haseul. She looks like she’s about to cry. She rolls her eyes in frustration and facepalms.

“What am I doing? What in the world am I doing?”

Haseul opens her mouth, about to answer, but she realizes the blonde is talking to herself. So she waits, giving her the space to express herself. Jinsol looks at her again and shakes her head. Haseul doesn’t understand. She can’t tell if Jinsol is frantic or giddy. She only knows her friend is not acting like her usual self, and she’s worried.

She tries to remain soft, and not let it show.

“What are you talking about?”

Jinsol stares, silent. Haseul can tell she hesitates. Words don’t seem to come out of her mouth. Maybe words can’t define what she’s feeling and she’s trying to formulate her thought. It’s okay, Haseul can wait, she’s patient.

Jinsol takes a step towards her.

Haseul waits for her to speak.

And then there are crashes.

Jinsol’s lips crashing on hers.

Haseul’s world crashing. Her insides exploding. All the colors being brought together, bringing light on her desire, like nothing ever has before. A desire that she didn’t even know she had but that her body instantly recognizes as if it has been craving it forever. It responds on its own.

Haseul isn’t even able to think, at this point. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are dancing a waltz with Jinsol’s. Slow, careful. And then it turns into a quickstep. Quicker, needier. Haseul pulls away bites her own lip and trying to breathe, her forehead against Jinsol's and looking at the ground. The blond grabs her chin between her thumb and index finger and raises it, making their lips meet again.

They don’t say anything. But is there anything to say when the two of them are panting at the same pace? And is there anything to say when their lips seem to do all the talking on their own?

Haseul doesn’t have time to be surprised by the whole event. A shriek in the distance breaks the wordless conversation they’re having.

They look around at the same time. No one is there. They can see in each other’s eyes that they both realize how much of a danger they’re in if they get caught.

They should go back.

They don’t.

They hide behind the wooden box of the toilets instead.

Love is forbidden. Just like sharing their fruits is against the rules. They know it. And they do it anyway. They take small bites of each other until they’re completely consumed. Until there’s nothing left but their core. They share the seeds of a passion that will grow into a deeply rooted tree and bloom in its natural place, its existence never even being questioned.

* * *

Weeks go by, and Haseul and Jinsol’s routine is still the same.

Except that now they share their apples and the memory of their kiss. It’s just one memory. Their souls haven’t connected the same way since. But it’s there, burnt in their mind and engraved in their skin. Haseul can see in the way Jinsol’s dark pupils reflect her that she remembers it too.

They’ve been spending time by the fireplace more often, but not enough to raise suspicion. They’ve played with each other’s hair, compared the size of their hands, brushed their noses together. All in the darkness of the dormitory, and only when the others are already asleep.

When Haseul lies in her bed in the cold of winter, she wishes she could share it with Jinsol. She wishes she could hug the other girl from the back, rest her head in her neck, intertwine their legs, and fall asleep like that. Warmth being both literal from the outside and figurative from the inside.

But they’re not allowed to. They’re probably not even supposed to think about each other. They’re not allowed to think at all.

That night, Haseul is alone at the fireplace. Jinsol has already gone to bed, wordlessly squeezing the brunette’s shoulder as she passed by.

Sometimes, Haseul likes being alone next to the chimney. It gives her time to think. But lately, she’s been missing Jinsol every time she wasn’t there. She’s been missing someone who is only ten meters away, sound asleep.

And when she looks at the flames now, she doesn’t compare them to anything anymore. She only thinks about how she would want to watch Jinsol sleep, and how their light is too faint in the beds area. She could not see her angel even if she tried.

But she won’t try. She’s not a weirdo.

It’s tempting, though.

When Haseul walks to her own bed, she spares a glance in Jinsol’s direction, wishing to kiss her on the forehead and tell her goodnight even if she’s already asleep. She wonders what the blonde is dreaming about. Does she cross her mind as often as she crosses hers? Are the blonde’s dreams as vivid as hers?

Haseul looks away and sits on her bed. She takes her slippers off and lies down. Her heads hits something hard. She frowns.

She wasn’t expecting any delivery from Vivi that day. But getting books is always a pleasant surprise. Too bad she can’t see what it is.

She wants to. It’s a big and heavy book, and Haseul wants to see what’s inside. Her curiosity is piqued.

And now, she’s tempted to break the rules. She’s broken many of them now, what’s one more? Or maybe many more.

She takes the book and walks up to Jinsol’s bed. She sits next to the sleeping girl, lays the book down on the floor, and gently covers the blonde’s mouth in order to prevent her from making noise because of the surprise.

“Jinsol” she whispers next to her ear.

The blonde opens her eyes right away and looks down at the hand keeping her from talking. She’s calm, she doesn’t panic. Maybe because she recognizes Haseul despite the darkness. At least that’s what the latter wants to believe. She takes her hand off the blonde’s mouth and kisses her forehead like she’s been wanting to since earlier.

“Come with me.”

She pulls on the other girl’s hand, encouraging her to stand up and follow her. She grabs the book and Jinsol follows, no questions asked. Haseul can tell that she’s sleepy from the way the blonde’s fingers don’t wrap around her own as firmly as they usually do.

The shorter girl leads them out of the dormitory and into the storehouse. She follows the wall with her left hand as she hold Jinsol’s in the right. She knows the way by heart. She’s touched all the cracks on the wall. She could count them if she wanted to. Sometimes she’s surprised the building still stands.

The storehouse is four doors away. It’s not far, but a Supervisor could be there any second. And if they get caught out of bed… Haseul doesn’t even want to think about it. When she hears a footstep in the hallway, she instantly regrets bringing Jinsol with her.

She’s risking the blonde’s perfect record. She’s risking Jinsol being punished.

And although nothing has ever been violent around there, those who got punished have never acted the same ever since. If they even came back from it.

She doesn’t want that for Jinsol.

She opens the door as silently as possible and pulls the blonde in before trapping themselves in the small room. Haseul pushes Jinsol against the wall in the corner, away from the door, where they can’t be seen if someone comes in.

“What are we-“

Haseul covers the girl’s mouth again. And once more, Jinsol doesn’t protest. She can feel the urgency.

The footsteps come closer. Haseul holds her breath.

Light flickers beneath the door and vanishes. The footsteps are going in the direction of the dormitory. If they check on everyone’s bed, as they sometimes do, they’re gonna realize that two students are missing.

Haseul hopes. That’s all she can do. All her being focuses on not being discovered. She waits, her hand still over Jinsol’s mouth, close enough that she can feel the other girl’s breath but far enough so she doesn’t actually touch her.

Minutes pass in complete silence. The footsteps come back, and then walk away in the other direction.

Haseul sighs in relief and looks at Jinsoul. Or tries to, at least, because it’s too dark and she can’t see her despite how close they are.

“Please don’t move, I’m gonna get something.”

The storehouse is more of a supply closet, and Haseul knows it by heart, but Jinsol doesn’t. And she can’t risk her friend bumping into anything. Both for her safety, and because it would make noise. And they can’t have that.

She shoves the book in Jinsol’s hands and takes a few steps in the opposite direction. She reaches a particular shelf and her hand brushes past a few items until it finally meets what she wants. A wooden box. She opens it and grabs the candle and the lighter that are inside.

Vivi has hidden them here and told Haseul about it. That’s how the both of them get to read books. The candlelight illuminates both the ink and their minds.

Haseul lights the candle and walks back to Jinsol.

Every sign of drowsiness is gone from the blonde’s face. Her hair is a bit dishevelled, and Haseul runs her hand in it, untying the knots as gently as she can. One of them is particularly hard to untie, and she struggles with it. It’s hard to work with only one hand.

“Jinsol, can you please hold the-“

Next thing she knows, Haseul is being pinned against the wall. She hears the book drop to the floor. The surprise is so intense, and the fear from being found out is so engulfing that she almost drops the candle.

But she doesn’t make it stop. Her hand is still in Jinsol’s hair, and she can’t help but pull on it a little as the blonde kisses her with ardor.

Haseul is quick to turn the situation around. She pushes on Jinsol’s shoulder and spins, pinning the other girl against the wall instead.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Jinsol is about to protest, and Haseul kisses her. Softly, slowly. It’s not that she doesn’t want the intensity, it’s just...

“That’s not what we came here for” she whispers in-between kisses. “I have to show you something.”

Jinsol nods and their noses graze against each other. Haseul lets go of the blonde’s hair, letting her untie it herself as she reaches for the book.

She grabs it and sits down, cross-legged, patting the space next to her. Jinsol follows. Soon, Haseul holds the candle in her left hand, and she tries to flick the pages with her right hand, without moving her shoulder too much so that Jinsol still feels comfortable resting her head there.

It’s a picture book. It shows something called continents, ands a lot of people who dress very differently from one another. Some have very colorful clothes, some wear animal skin, some are dressed in black and white.

There are a lot of names of places. If there are so many places, surely the Elsewhere is gigantic. Neither Haseul nor Jinsol has a sense of distance, but they still look at the pictures with interest, wondering how far from the Center they were taken. And where the Center is located on the globe.

At some point, the taller girl takes over the flipping of the pages. She lingers over a page quietly, and Haseul just waits for her to go the next.

“How did you get this?”

“I can’t tell you. But I can show you many different books. Someone gives them to me, and I come here to read. She’s also the one who told me about the candle and the lighter.”

Haseul wants to trust Jinsol. She does trust her. But she cannot risk throwing Vivi under the bus. She won’t say anything more. And Jinsol doesn’t ask for more either.

“Do you come here often?”

Jinsol is looking at her curiously. There are still a lot of things they don’t know about each other. About each other’s world. About the world itself.

“I didn’t take you for a rule breaker, Haseul.”

The tingling in Haseul’s abdomen is back. She can’t help it. She doesn’t even want to fight it.

“Oh yeah? Weren’t I the one giving you my apple every day? Or did you forget about that?”

She closes the book, and hovers over Jinsol, forcing her to lie down, still holding the candle. Jinsol chuckles, not scared at all by the threat looming over her.

“How could I forget?”

Haseul blows on the candle and sets it to the side, next to the book, where she can easily find it after she’s done.

“I certainly hope you can’t. I keep breaking rules for you.”

Jinsoul leans on her elbows, still lying on the ground.

“We break rules together, now.”

It doesn’t take more for Haseul to surge forward and kiss her. She’ll brave the forbidden. She’ll share her fruit, and she’ll kiss Jinsol until she rips her from all her layers and gets to the pips of their relationship. She’ll grow them, watering them with love so they can sprout. Haseul will kiss Jinsol until their roots are interlaced and impossible to tell apart or separate. They’ll bite the fruit together. They’ll get the knowledge from the books, and succumb all kinds of temptation, break all kinds of rules.

* * *

By the end of their training session, four years later, they’ve bitten the fruit. Many times. And the tree has bloomed. Their feelings for each other are still blossoming, coloring their dull lives at the Center. The whole pattern has now become nuanced. It’s not just blindly going through their daily routine anymore. It’s become an adventure of stealing kisses from each other when no one is looking, of breaking out of the dormitory to explore the Center at night. They’re the only witnesses to their secret stories.

They know they’re not allowed. They know that if the supervisors find out they will be punished. Cast out. Just like all the other students who broke rules in the past year or so.

More than that, they’re acutely aware that in a few weeks, they will be sent Elsewhere, and they will probably never see each other again. But they hold onto the hope that maybe the Elsewhere is full of grace, after all, and will let them find each other. They know geography, maybe they stand a chance if the geography they know still applies.

They spend their evenings by the chimney, they talk about all they’ve read. They think they’re ready for what’s awaiting them outside. But they’re still scared. They huddle together, whispering sweet words of escaping before the day comes, empty promises of finding each other beyond the fence. They hold hands, and maybe if they never let go, they can never be separated. Their passion is too strong to be uprooted, and the tree of their love is too thick to bend.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you had as much fun reading this as i had writing it. i'm rarely satisfied with my writing but i think that this time i am. so please leave kudos and comments, i'm very eager to get feedback ♥
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/lipsomniac). ask questions on [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.qa/lipsomniac). support my writing on [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/lipsomniac).


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